Obligations
by solinaK
Summary: Luka angst, season 9.
1. Chapter 1

**Obligations  
Chapter 1**

**Category: **Angst.  
**Summary: **Luka. Luka. Luka.  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

**A/N:** Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends. And a thank you to VjeraNadaLjubav for correcting my Croatian!

* * *

I don't think. I'm asleep. I inhale oxygen one deep breath after the other, sinking into the smell of burned flesh and- 

Time to get up. Move your legs. Get your brain wrapped around some thing or another, go to work or go screw some stranger. Anything goes.

3 AM. Good time to get up. The sheets are clingy and my brain foggy. Fog inside and outside my eyes. I'm sure these are my eyes. The vodka bottle must've caused this. Was it last night?

Where am I?

I struggle to get up. The Chicago night wells from the window. It's foggy. I wipe my hand over my eyes. Leave it there for a while. Don't think. Thinking hurts.

I'm home. Where is home? Did my bedroom have black walls? Oh, it's night. I almost forgot. The fog is clearing out. Should go to work.

* * *

6 AM. I look like shit. I fell asleep in the shower. Is that possible? 

Is it possible not to sleep for ten years?

"Hey Luka!" It's Abby. I almost passed her by. I blink a bit. Or a lot, I can't really tell.

"Hey."

"You coming or going?"

"Uuh, my shift starts at 6:30 AM." What a refreshing conversation this is.

"I have still two hours left of this madness." She sips her coffee and smiles slightly.

"Yeah. Well, uuh, I'd better get going."

"Yeah, sure."

Am I in a hurry? I'm always in a hurry. After changing my coat in the Lounge I grab my first chart. Shortness of breath. I just realized how sleepy I feel.

* * *

9 AM. I can pull through this shift. I always can. I can pull through this shift. I always can. It's like a silent mantra. That vodka bottle wasn't a smart move after all. I'm almost positive that that's what happened last night. A private meeting with the burning substance. The only thing I'm sure about is that I'll repeat my actions this night too. But I don't want to talk about it. Hell, I don't even want to think about it. 

"Hello, my name is Dr. Kovac…" Hello, Patient No Big Number. I don't care about you in the slightest. I nod in a way that suggests friendliness as I listen to the complaints and smile tightly as he makes a small joke. About something, I forget.

"Luka!" Susan is after me. Have I done something wrong? I don't recall. I don't recall anything in particular. I feel a bit dizzy.

"Your patient in 2 is crashing. Luka, do you hear me?"

Do I hear you? There's an odd buzzing in my head. Could someone turn down the static? I can't hear properly. It's like a thousand bees decided that my brain is suddenly their new favourite abiding place. They're whispering to me. _Luka, Luka. Marko je mrtav, Marko, Luka. _I'm not listening. Not listening, not listening, not listening. Notlisteningnotlisteningnotlisteningnotlisten-

"Luka, are you allright? Luka?"

Now I remember vaguely the bottle of painkillers that I drowned in the morning. Perhaps in hindsight not such a smart move. Afterwards I drank some water from the red cup. The one with the white stripes. The one she liked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Obligations  
Chapter 2**

**Category:** Angst.  
**Summary:** Luka. Luka. Luka.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

**A/N:** Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends.  
**A/N:** Thank you for the comments, Ella and Amy! Feels nice to get some feedback! I'll see how the story evolves from here, I'm not sure if I'll continue it any further. If you see some spelling mistakes please notify me. English isn't my first language so I might invent new words at times. But that's nice.

-Virva

* * *

It's warm. It's nice. I'm gliding on a small cloud made of cinnamon, the sky a pretty pale blue. I smile contently. My mother passes me the salt, her cheeks alerted into a pale smile. Pass the salt, pass the salt! _Bleep. Bleep. Bleep._ The image is fading. Pale blue, pale blue fading into white. It's too white. I don't think I like it. There are a lot of things I don't like.

"He's waking up!"

I'm waking up! Let's all cheer! I want back to the pale blue world with the silky smiles and long long horizons. I love the smell of cinnamon and the little blue flowers scattered on my palms. So peaceful! I want to glide!

"_Polenta blues."_

"Luka, Luka. Can you hear me?"

"_Polenta blues. Polenta blues."_

And I'm back in the pale blue world. How beautiful this all is. This ignorance.

* * *

"How's Luka?"

Susan ran a tired hand through her hair, her fingers washing over it lightly.

"Coping. He should regain consciousness in a while." She cast a glance at Abby. "Did you have… any idea?"

Abby pursed her lips together.

"No, I mean… he, well. I don't know. I don't know. I'm a bit." She sneezes, pushing her hair behind her ear. "But he's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I'm gonna get a cup of coffee, it was a long night. You still on?"

"Yeah, I'm on till six." Susan smiles a bit and touches her shoulder as she walks past her.

* * *

My throat feels a little gruffy. I concentrate on that one small feeling.

Gruffiness. Maybe I should open my eyes? What will I find?

I'm in the hospital. Didn't I finish my shift? Why am I lying on a gurney? Why, why, why? My brain feels fuzzy. I'm gruffy and fuzzy. I almost laugh at my choice of words. I feel like I'm high.

There's someone sitting on a chair beside my gurney. When did it become my gurney?

"Hey." It's Abby.

"Hey." My voice is a little croaked. It's the gruffiness. It's the fuzziness.

"How you feeling?" Gruffy and fuzzy.

"A bit sleepy." I close my eyes for a while. I'd like to ask some questions, but I don't like people judging me. My actions. Is she disappointed? Why am I lying to myself? And I don't want to talk about it or that, don't want to think, don't want to go deeper.

"Luka, I…"

Yes, do continue. Why did you overdose? Come on, say it, Abby, you can do it! I'm not that frightening. Or am I? Am I?

"Luka, you… overdosed." It wasn't a question. Should I play it stupid? I think I'll keep my eyes shut for a little while. My brain doesn't want to co-operate with me right now. I'd like to whistle a bit. I still feel like I'm high. I almost start to laugh.

"Hmm." Well. I should be more serious. She'll think that I'm crazy if I start to laugh now. Am I crazy? I don't know. I open my eyes again. There. I can see.

She's a bit distressed.

"Luka, I just… I just… why did you do it? Why did you… you…" she looks like she's going to cry. She looks away and sniffs a bit. I don't say anything. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Is ten years lately?

"When did you do it?"

"In the morning… uuh… it was a… a pretty morning." I don't know what I'm talking about. What was pretty? She looks a little more upset.

"Luka, I… I don't get it. You seemed fine, you really seemed fine I just." She has decided to ignore my comment about the prettiness of the moment that I gulped down the many nice colourful pills. Well, at least I didn't laugh.

"I just wished you would have talked to me or, or to someone." I talk to my gold fish occasionally. Does that count?

"Look, I… I gotta go now, there'll be someone to see you, I'll come back later, okay?"

I nod. And turn my head around. My head is spinning. Circles, circles, circles.

* * *

Don't feel that cheerful anymore. Did I feel cheerful before? I don't know. I miss my vodka bottle. It's in the cupboard on the left from the refrigerator.

"You don't know?" Dr. Spencer has yellowish teeth and brown shoes.

"Yes." No?

"You don't know why you tried to kill yourself?" Yes, I know. It does sound a little stupid.

"Mmm." I clench my jaw a bit. He is not exasperated. I guess he gets this all the time. From the people who are waiting to get discharged so they can drink from the red cup all over again. The whole world in a striped cup. But I'm growing a little frustrated myself. _Why did you try to kill yourself? Why? How does it feel? How? _What if I tell him that I don't feel anything? Is that a feeling? Is not feeling anything a feeling? Not feeling, not caring, not listening?

Are there people who care about me? Susan has been nice enough. And Abby. And Abby. But it's a little too little. And a little too late. I can see myself quite clearly. I know that I'm in as deep as it gets. I know, I know, I know. I do. It's the looks, it's the burning flesh, it's the pretty mornings and pale blue flowers. I can feel my hands carefully sliding the slender flower into her hair. In a moment. In this moment. Am I here? Am I there? Am I anywhere?


	3. Chapter 3

**Obligations  
Chapter 3**

**Category:** Angst.  
**Summary:** Luka. Luka. Luka.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

**A/N:** Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends.  
**A/N: **I think that I've been bitten by the fan fiction bug. I've now written this whole story, there'll be 5 chapters in all, but I'll have to check and double-check and triple-check them first so it might take a day or two for me to add the chapters. Or something. Thanks for the reviews, Amy and Peaky! I really appreciate it. Really.

-Virva

* * *

The weakening sunlight is bouncing on the kitchen table. A bit further up, then down again. I shift my eyes a little left from my refrigerator. It's so close. I'm just about to get up, when the doorbell rings. 

I wasn't expecting anyone.

It's Abby. I wasn't expecting Abby. I tell her that yes, she can come in.

She comes in.

Sits on the sofa. I wait for her to speak. She takes her time.

"Umm… have you eaten yet?" No, I haven't eaten anything if you don't count that coffee on the morning.

"Yes." Where did that come from?

"Luka, are you… are you seeing that therapist?" So she is here to check if I've been a good boy. That I haven't taken any… sleeping pills? Painkillers?

I sit on a chair opposite the sofa, hoping that she'll forget her question. When did I become like this?

She's still waiting for my answer. "Yes." I shoot her my end-of-discussion-yes.

"Has it helped?" She isn't intimidated.

"Uuh… I guess." Not.

"That means no."

I shrug.

"Well what if you changed the therapist?"

"I don't think that'd really make a difference." I am not having this conversation.

"Well why do you go there if it isn't helping?"

"Weaver makes me." I am answering in full sentences now. She is enthralled.

I am silent. She looks down her hands. She is silent.

"Luka… are you… sad?"

I look at her for a while, my finger making patterns on my palm. I stand up and go for the cupboard on the left side from the refrigerator. To hell with it all.

I come back with a vodka bottle and one glass. I'm feeling much better already. Hell, I'm ecstatic.

"No. I stopped being sad a long time ago." I pause. "You don't want any?"

"No." I pour my glass full to the brim. "Why did you stop?" The heavenly liquid flashes a bit in the evening sun. I can almost imagine it smiling at me.

"It didn't matter really." I gulp down a considerable amount of alcohol.

"If you're not sad then what are you?"

I shrug. Again. "Nothing really." The alcohol seems to be doing its tricks. For a moment I consider arriving drunk at the next therapy session. Dr. Spencer would be rapt with my amount of co-operation.

"If things aren't working out at the therapy, what did you tell Spencer? I mean, didn't you talk at all or…"

"I told him that I woke up one morning, went to the shower, got dressed, was on my way out of the door when I turned around, went back to the bathroom and swallowed all the painkillers, left my apartment and went to work." I need more vodka if I really am discussing this. With her. I pour another glass. She doesn't seem to notice.

"I guess he was thrilled." Her voice sounds so small.

"Ecstatic. That was the culmination of our sessions."

"Haven't you been in therapy before?"

"No."

"Not even after-"

"Not even after." I fill my glass.

We sit in silence for a while. It isn't that bad. I am comfortably intoxicated. I don't know what I'm thinking when I open my mouth.

"A mortar shell hit the apartment when I was at the store. I found my son first. His bloody hand was sticking out of the. The crib." More alcohol. "He was dead." I come back to my senses. I stare at the wall. She is watching me. I can tell. I turn my head a bit so that I can see her. She has a peculiar expression on her face. Her hand is folded under her chin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Obligations****  
Chapter 4**

**Category: **Angst.  
**Summary: **Luka. Luka. Luka.  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

**A/N:** Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends.  
**A/N: **So here we go again! The second last chapter and the last long (Long for me) chapter. The last chapter will be just a short epilogue of some sorts. But anyways a thank you to the reviewers, Mrs. Eyre, Amy and Ella. You made my day!

-Virva

* * *

I could stare at that wall for a very long time. In a way I'm challenging it. Challenging myself. It's quite a beautiful wall. I don't know. 

My therapist doesn't know either. I guess.

It's my first day back. At work. I'm supposed to work, so I came. I'm obliged to work. To live. Weaver thought it was a little too early. I thought it was a little too late anyway.

I don't know.

I don't care.

Abby has come around my place every evening. Is she afraid of what I might do? What I did? What I will do? Will I?

It's quite nice, actually. But in a way it makes me.

I don't know.

I go back to my patient with chest pains. I can see the others looking at me. The rumor mill of the ER has gone crazy, I guess. The foreign doc who goes nuts and tries to off himself sells much. _Why did he do it? Will he do it again? Why is he back to work so early?

* * *

_

I never was quite the drinker. Never, before. Maybe.

I don't know.

I don't know a lot of things.

I swirl the liquid around. I can see my reflection from the surface of it. My eyes are a little sunken.

The door bell rings. I'm almost used to it now. I'm almost expecting it.

Almost expecting her.

She smiles at me when I open the door. She doesn't question the half-empty bottle on my kitchen table. Or the two empty ones beside it. Or the few cans littered on the worktables. Or the fact that I'm a bit drunk. A bit. A bit more than a bit, perhaps.

She sits down on the sofa. Makes herself comfortable. I swirl my drink around. Swirl, swirl, swirl.

It's been like this for a while now. I drink and she watches. I swirl and she watches. Sometimes I talk and she listens. Sometimes she talks. But more of the drinking and swirling and watching.

When did we become like this? Were we always like this?

She talks. "Luka, I… I'd like to know, need to know, if." She pauses, searching for something. The right words? There are no right words. No right thing to do. No right nothing. "If you're planning to do it again, if…"

If I'm planning to kill myself? If I'm considering the different options right now? Different ways in which to have an ending?

Do I want an ending?

"I don't know. I didn't plan it. If, then I don't plan it again. Maybe. I don't know." But I know that I'm not making any sense. I know. She knows.

"If you didn't plan on killing yourself, then why did you do it? Mmm, why did you, Luka?" Her voice has hitched up an octave. She wants to know. She has wanted to know for a long time. _I don't know _is a bad answer. _I don't know _is the least right set of words. _I don't know _is for my therapist so that he can curl up his brown shoes and pretend not to be exasperated with me. Not to her. Not her.

"I just… woke up one morning and realized that all I had was lost. Lost or broken." Unfixable. Unreachable. Un-everything. Unalive.

She has that expression again. That expression.

She reaches for my hand. Squeezes it. Makes me feel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Obligations  
Chapter 5**

**Category: **Angst.  
**Summary: **Luka. Luka. Luka.  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

**A/N:** Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago (Or Carter got run over… flown over by a helicopter or already fell in love with some woman and moved to Africa, any way you like it) in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends.  
**A/N: **Every time I was supposed to write the word "sofa" I wrote "soda" instead. Isn't that funny. A little funny like that. I wanted to finish this story before I went away for a while, so here's the final chapter (Or I'd rather call it a short epilogue as it's. Short.), at least for now. Unless I have a sudden impulse to continue this. Or make a sequel. Don't know. But anyway, thanks to anyone who read this and sent comments! This was my first fan fiction. Thank you, thank you!  
And oh, I'm sorry Amy hun, this isn't probably as dark as you'd like, but you can imagine Luka buying a gun after this and blowing his brains out. Or something. But that wouldn't be very nice now? I think? God this author's note is longer than the actual chapter. Here I shut up.

-Virva

* * *

She's still here. I fell asleep on the sofa. I feel a little tired. Just a little tired. 

I sit on the sofa. She's in the kitchen. I can hear her making coffee.

My moves are a bit slow.

She smiles good morning at me.

"Thought you'd like some coffee."

"Mmm-hmm." I feel strangely at peace. But it's not… it's not the peace I usually experience. I think I have mistaken the numbness that ensues after the first drink to peace. This is... just peace. Just peace.

Or I felt at peace before I realized that I have a massive hangover. But I don't really care. I don't want a thing that insignificant ruining this sudden. Sudden something. Or maybe it's not sudden? It feels like.

"Are you on today?" She's reaching for the cups. We need cups so that we can drink coffee from them.

"Nope." The patients are lucky today. I guess.

She takes a yellow cup and a red cup. With white stripes. She places them on the table and smiles slightly.

"I didn't remember that I'd left this cup at your place. I've been looking for it for a while."

"I didn't know you were looking for it."

She smiles. I smile. We smile.


End file.
